


Fate is Such a Heavy Word

by Loki_Anansi



Series: To All the Children Raised by Wolves [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Feels, Communication is key everyone, Crying Jaskier | Dandelion, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flower Crowns, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:02:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26775559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loki_Anansi/pseuds/Loki_Anansi
Summary: Prompt line:Fate is a very weighty word to throw around before breakfastWhen Geralt should really get better at communication and understanding when to spill potentially upsetting information.Jaskier is just trying to love his Witcher without destiny getting in the way.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: To All the Children Raised by Wolves [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952023
Comments: 5
Kudos: 95





	Fate is Such a Heavy Word

**Author's Note:**

> My friend sent me this thread about phrases that remind that person of Geralt x Jaskier and my mind immediately began to create scenes for each one.
> 
> @wttsiamt over on Twitter is the creator of the thread if anyone wants to look.

Jaskier liked to think that nothing could spoil the absolute joy that he felt this morning, making him smile like a loon into the bowl of food provided by the current inn that Geralt managed to persuade (read: threaten) into taking the two in during the middle of a storm.

The fact that Geralt managed to do so after such a wonderful night showed the bard that jinxing is still a thing. _And that it fucking sucks._

_“...it was with Yennifer. The Wish, I mean…”_

And Jaskier, who’s entire morning goal was to steal a kiss from the Witcher, just smiles and tries not to believe in the thoughts rushing through deafened ears.

_See. You were never going to stay with him in the end._

_Did you really think the world would let you be happy?_

_Is this what you’re going to remember years down the line, old and frail while he is trapped in time? A half-empty bowl and that dark look in his wolf eyes._

_Last night was a mistake._

**_Forget about him._ **

Jaskier tries not to tremble at that last notion, instinctively knowing that he never will.

He tries to cover up the cracks with a smile and a jester-like reply. “Fate is a very weighty word to throw around before breakfast.”

And Geralt does nothing but sigh the bard’s name, grey eyes silently tracking every line and curve as if memorizing his figure.

And like a cracking dam, Jaskier stands up and slams his hands on the rickety table. “You do _not_ ,” he’s trembling and shaking and every other damn synonymous word that tells the world that he’s breaking into fuckin’ pieces, “get to tell me this after what you did. After what **we did together.** ” He stresses the last three words as if hoping to get it across to the other. But the only thing Geralt does is close his eyes and look away.

Jaskier remembers an almost too tight grip that made him feel so safe, luminous hair that flowed like moonlight, and above all else, golden irises that never left his figure; tracing his features and turning imperfections into perfections. Geralt never closed his eyes unless it was to kiss Jaskier as if removing one of his senses enhanced the others. 

And Jaskier felt more alive that night than he ever did before. Rushing to put his claim on the other in some desperate attempt to make the other stay. And now, looking at closed eyes but not being kissed, seeing no evidence of his own marks, Jaskier stands in the morning light and hides as the tears fall; nonsensical sobs passing through trembling lips like a plead to Geralt.

_What will it take?_ He manages to ask through the void spreading through his mind. _For you to beat destiny and stay with me by choice?_

Jaskier can’t even bring himself to say it out loud, figure grown cold in the blooming sunlight as the Witcher stays silent, as the world stays hushed.

Surprisingly enough, it’s Geralt who breaks the silence, with a creak of the chair and heavy footsteps that march a path towards the muted bard.

“Did you know, the first time I thought of you as something other than annoying, was when you placed a crown of dandelions on my brow and smiled like you won the world.” 

Jaskier just shakes his head, never removing his hands from his face as they fail to catch his own downpour. The footsteps stop right in front of him and gently, always as gentle as they can be after being marred with death, a hand began to softly run through the bard’s hair. 

And Jaskier shakes as his heart begins to sing again.

“My first thought was: _Sunshine_ . And then right after without a second to spare, _he’s beautiful_.”

Geralt’s other hand wraps like a seal over Jaskier’s upper arm and the crying man just falls into the Witcher without hesitation. Because even though the heavyweight around his throat and the void in his mind, Jaskier still trusts Geralt. He doesn’t know if he should even pity himself for this.

Cries are quietly diminishing as Jaskier shoves his face into Geralt’s chest and wraps too tight arms around his waist. The Witcher in return doesn’t stop the soothing motion of his hand or the hold of the other.

Geralt continues on with a hum when Jaskier does nothing but lay in his arms, which fair since the Witcher was stupid enough to make the other break down again.

“Last night you showed me another beautiful side of yours when you kissed me as we got into bed. Your lips fluttered against mine as if nervous but your hold around my neck was sure.”

Geralt softly laid a hand against Jaskier’s neck and kisses the top of his head, the smoothness of before tucked away as he mumbled his last words into the bard’s hair.

“Jaskier I think you’re the most beautiful person I will ever know and I love you for letting me stay close to you.”

There’s nothing left to be said and Geralt just sways in place as Jaskier doesn’t offer up anything in return. Hours or minutes pass before he is shaken out of his quiet trance by his bard moving towards the bed, hands solidly wrapped around the Witcher’s wrists in a silent demand to follow him.

And Geralt does, steps mirroring the other’s and soon enough, Jaskier had the other tucked away in bed and laying against him, mid-morning sun disregarded in favor of wrapping their arms around each other.

Jaskier doesn’t speak until Geralt is drifting off, lulled to sleep by his bard’s steady heartbeat and natural scent. It’s muffled and slightly petulant in a way that doesn’t fail to make Geralt try to hide a smile. 

“I knew you were slow on the uptake if it took you that long to realize my gorgeousness.”

Geralt softly nudges his chin against the other’s head and speaks with a rough tone that never failed to make Jaskier’s heart skip a beat. “Forgive me?”

_Forgive me for making you cry._

_Forgive me for making that wish._

_Forgive me for ever letting you doubt how much I love you._

Jaskier is a bard, but he’s also a poet that knows words are sometimes felt but not spoken and most recently, someone who understands every hidden message that seems to be in Geralt’s words. So he sighs like it’s such a heavy thing for him to do and basks in the contentment rising in him.

“I’ll forgive you this time.”

**Author's Note:**

> I might make this a series of unconnected fics where I answer prompts.
> 
> This is sorta my way of trying to get back to consistently writing at least every few days.
> 
> As always, if there are any errors, misspelled words, or if something doesn't make sense, please let me know!


End file.
